


Returning

by Moonsp1r1t



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Discussion of Depression, Drider transformation, Driders, Drow Assassin, Drow Culture, Elf Cleric, Escape, F/F, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, Intrusive Thoughts, Kidnapping, Lolth Worship, Non-Sexual Slavery, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Doubt, The Underdark (Forgotten Realms), moon elf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsp1r1t/pseuds/Moonsp1r1t
Summary: It has been seven years since Athaso of House Nathven, a Shadowblade of the Lolth’s Seekers, was sent on a mission to assassinate a group of adventurers. While seven years may not be a long time to an elf, it was enough time for the Drow to leave her life as an assassin behind for good. Seven years wasn't long enough for the organization she left behind to forget Athaso or her treachery, however, leading to her kidnapping and transformation into a Drider. Now Athaso must choose to live with her punishment in the place that she left behind, or she must try to escape the Underdark once more and risk that her love would only see her as the monster she has become.
Relationships: Original Dungeons & Dragons Character(s)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. The Cell

Even with her eyes closed, the world around Athaso seems to spin. The sharp, throbbing pain engulfs her entire body that has been there for a long time. She wants to throw up but she fears that moving even to do that would make the pain worse. The pain consumes her completely and it seems to her that there is no way out. Even breathing seems to hurt. The pain is so intense that she can’t think; she isn’t sure how much time has passed. Athaso wishes for the pain to stop more than anything. She feels like every now and then she can hear someone calling her name and speaking to her, but she can’t quite understand what is being said or find the strength to say anything in response; she isn’t even sure if it’s real.

As time passes, thinking becomes easier. She can picture the image of an elf in her head; a brown-skinned woman with coiled dark blue hair that floats around her head like a halo. Her silver eyes shimmer with mischief as she smiles innocently. Athaso clings to this image with all her might. She pictures the woman laughing, throwing her arms around her neck, tilting up Athaso’s chin with a thin hand… It is picturing these images and more that helps to ground her. Little by little, Athaso is able to physically feel things other than pain and eventually she is able to take stock of her surroundings.

The room she is in is small. It is made entirely of solid stone slabs, in order to prevent whoever contained inside from prying stones away in order to try to escape. It would be futile, though, even if there were stones to attempt to pry away; any holes that would have been made would not have been big enough. Athaso knew through her former work that these cells were built for very specific prisoners. This is evident in the steel door on one side of the cell; it is taller and wider than the average Drow.

Athaso tries not to think about why she is in the cell but it very quickly becomes a reality that she cannot ignore.

Her body feels… wrong. While everything still aches, Athaso discovers that the waist down seems to be the epicenter of the pain. She feels like her body has been stretched out beyond its limits and then twisted violently into something beyond recognition. She feels both bigger and smaller at the same time in a strange way; she can’t exactly describe it. The worst part, though, is her legs. The even _idea_ of trying to stand makes Athaso feel panicked. It just seems so complicated.

Athaso knows what she will see when she looks down, though, just as she knows what the cell is for. There is something of a mental block preventing the Drow from allowing the complete understanding and recognition of her situation to click. Deep down, she _knows_ what she will see should she look at herself, but she will not allow herself to think about it.

“Denial is typically the first stage.”

The image of the elf with the blue hair jumps to Athaso’s mind again, unbidden, along with her voice. Of course, that conversation had taken place under completely different circumstances. Athaso wonders if her words on grief can apply to this situation too… or if she’s just in denial without grieving anything.

_You could be grieving your life,_ a small, nasty voice says in the back of her head.

“ _I’m still alive,_ ” Athaso reminds herself firmly, staring blankly at where the stone wall meets the floor from where she lays.

_Perhaps, but is it worth it to continue on as you are now?_

“I’m still alive,” says Athaso aloud.

Her voice is hoarse and rusty from disuse. Makes Athaso flinch slightly, sending waves of pain crashing over her and her malformed body, and the realization crashes over her that not only is this the first time she has spoken for a long time, but also it was the first thing that she had heard in quite a while too.

“I’m still alive,” Athaso says again, closing her eyes. She repeats the phrase like a mantra. “I’m still alive. I’m still alive.”

“If you’re still alive,” the voice in her memory whispers, “you have a chance to improve. To change. To learn.”

\- - - - -

Athaso knelt before High Priestess Medhesi, looking at the hem of her refined robes. Her expression was serene but her eyes were calculating as she looked down at the three Drow assassins kneeling before her.

“Vivven of House Alanhari. Zirath of House Hereryn. Athaso of House Nathven,” stated the High Priestess.

As always, Athaso felt a twinge of shame upon hearing her family name but she was well trained enough that she did not let it show on her face. The same could be said for her compatriots; while she had been taunted about it when she was young, neither Vivven nor Zirath looked her way this time. Their eyes all stay fixed upon the hem of the High Priestess’s robes.

“The three of you show great promise and great devotion to your organization,” the High Priestess said. Her voice was silky and smooth; there was something almost magically compelling about it even though she was not casting a spell. “I have called you here for an important mission.”

None of the three Drow said a word, knowing that the High Priestess would give them all the information that they needed. Athaso, however, felt a prickle of anticipation and excitement; surely if she had been chosen for an important mission, this was the opportunity she had been seeking for the last several decades. She had been given the chance to join the organization when she was young, the High Priestess making it clear that she could redeem her family name should she excel in their craft. Perhaps this mission would be the perfect window of opportunity to ensure that the name of House Nathven would no longer be spat upon among the other Drow.

“As you may have heard, a group of _surfacers_ had broken into the city recently, taking with them one of our prisoners,” said the High Priestess. “They also stole a box. I need you three to kill them and the prisoner they stole-- we have no more need for it-- but most importantly I need you to recover the box.”

“High Priestess, if I may,” Vivven asked cautiously. She waited for the High Priestess to wave her hand for permission to continue. “What is in this box?”

“Scrolls detailing information vital to us and our continued survival,” said the High Priestess. “None of you are to look at these scrolls; they are not for your ilk.”

“Yes, High Priestess,” said Vivven, Zirath, and Athaso obediently.

“Our sources say that they are escaping through the surfacers’ old mine shaft to the northeast from here. I have sent a couple of people ahead to collapse the tunnel, which should buy the three of you some time,” the High Priestess said. “And remember what you were taught; death before capture.”

\- - - - -

Athaso awakens abruptly. There is a clanging sound close to her head and she reflexively raises her arms to cover her ears, the motion not hurting as much as it may have a few days ago. She still makes no move to stand up, however, although she directs her gaze towards the steel door to her cell. It swings open, nearly hitting Athaso in the face and forcing her to shrink backwards. She blinks several times and stares dazedly at the Drow staring at her from the other side.

One person is wearing the studded leather uniform of the members of Lolth’s Seekers; Athaso recognizes this person by face but not by name. Their face is perfectly blank and they stand next to a male Drow in a standard guard’s uniform, who observes Athaso with open disgust. He carries the keys to her cell in his hands and for a brief moment Athaso has the wild impulse to leap at him and try to take them from him so that she could attempt to escape but she knows that would be madness; she doubts that in her current state she could even move as fast as she used to be able to anyways.

In front of the Seeker and the guard stands High Priestess Medhesi. Athaso looks up at the High Priestess tiredly and makes no effort to stand. The High Priestess, on the other hand, observes Athaso with a mild expression, but Athaso can practically see the calculations occurring in her gaze as she watches.

“Athaso,” she says coldly.

Athaso meets the High Priestess’s eyes with a cool gaze of her own. “High Priestess.”

The High Priestess looks almost pleased. “You seem to have your wits about you.”

Athaso sneers at the High Priestess and says nothing. The High Priestess raises an eyebrow at Athaso, traces a glowing teal rune in the air with two of her fingers, and says aloud, “ _Stand._ ”

Athaso’s legs-- all eight of them-- automatically fold under her and begin to push against the ground. She almost loses her balance but commanded by magic she stands up. Her many legs and monstrous abdomen ache as Athaso is sickeningly struck with her reality for the first time. When she was alone, laying on the ground of her cell, she was able to ignore the fact that she had been so warped. She wants them to leave; she doesn’t want to be seen. When she is alone she can ignore what she has become and bury herself in her memories of safer and happier times. Shame claws at the pit of Athaso’s stomach and it forces her gaze downwards, even as she now stands taller than the High Priestess in her monsterous Drider form.

The High Priestess looks Athaso up and down. “Yes, I think you’ll do. You are weakened from the transformation and your weeks in isolation but as you haven’t yet gone mad there’s no reason that you can’t still be of use.”

Athaso closes her eyes in a grimace; she knows this too. Part of her job previously had involved tracking down and kidnapping those whom the High Priestess said Lolth was displeased by. The High Priestess helped aid these traitors to the Drow into Driders. It is well known that madness is common in Driders; in Athaso’s work under the High Priestess she had seen it herself. Sometimes they will have gone mad at once, at which point they would be released into the elaborate caverns or Underwilds connecting the different levels of the Underdark so that they would not attack any of the citizens of Adrodduth, or worse, any of the nobles that live on the outskirts. Those that don’t go mad from the transformation itself, however, are usually sold. The largest driver of the economy of Adrodduth is slavery, both the buying and selling of slaves and the labor they provide. The number of slaves held by a single family is a sign of status, with the more slaves owned as a sign of the family’s prestige or status. Some families in particular like to collect more “exotic or unique” slaves, including Drider… at least until they go mad, of course, at which point they are no longer useful and are released into the wilds or the caverns to be killed by feral Drider, ropers, or any of the other creatures that live outside of civilized Drow society.

Athaso freely acknowledges her former role in this process; most of the Drow she had been sent to retrieve had simply been trying to leave to start a new life. For the last few years, she has regretted her role in Drow society, but she was lucky as she was in a situation where she was able to talk these emotions out with several different people. Athaso recognizes now, though, that she is on her own; no one would want to speak freely and openly to a Drider, neither in the Underdark nor on the surface. The Drow recognize Drider as outcasts and failures at best, whereas other kinds of peoples simply view Drider as savage monsters.

“In fact,” says the High Priestess, sounding deeply pleased, “we have an interested buyer already.”

Athaso’s mind starts to race. They’re going to be letting her out of this cell. She thinks about the sort of behavior she had seen in mad Driders before and wonders how well she might be able to replicate that. Once she’s out of the cell, it doesn’t matter if she is at the home of the person that wishes to buy her or on her way there, if she starts showing signs of mental deterioration perhaps they will let her go. She could _escape_.

The High Priestess smiles cruelly as if she knows the direction of Athaso’s thoughts. “I expect you to be on your best behavior. After all, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your little Moon Elf wife up on your surface, would we?”


	2. The Seekers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drow assassins close in on a group of adventurers.

Athaso could see the intruders from where she was crouched behind the stalagmite. They weren’t too far away. She could not see Vivven or Zirath, but she knew that they were both circling around the mini campsite in order to find an optimal hiding spot in order to coordinate an ambush. There was a small fire burning and a couple of bedrolls set up around it. Sitting next to the fire was the prisoner, a surface gnome. He was curled up in on himself, knees drawn to his chest. He talked quietly to a human; the human had broad shoulders and long, yellowish hair. The human seemed to be a person of few words, but they spoke softly to the gnome, clearly trying to offer him some words of reassurance. A tiefling circled the edge of the camp, gazing out into the darkness with softly glowing green eyes, the tip of their long blue tail flicking near their ankles. Their grayish horns glinted slightly in the firelight, not dissimilar to the strange mechanical contraption they held in their hands.

There were three other people in the campsite. A dark-skinned dwarf man with a bushy black beard sat on one of the bedrolls, holding an ornate box in two hands wrapped in bandages. Athaso’s attention narrowed in on this box, identifying it immediately as the thing that the High Priestess had sent them to retrieve. The other two were observing the dwarf and the box, talking to him softly. Athaso strained her ears, trying to hear what they were saying, but she couldn’t hear their words. One of the people sitting on her knees to the left of the dwarf was a tall, green-skinned woman with two tusks protruding from her bottom lip. Her hair seemed to be intricately woven braids and she wore a dress that seemed far too fancy for a trip into the Underdark. The other person was crouching on the dwarf’s other side and had brown skin and curly blue hair from which Athaso could see pointed ears poking out. The Drow’s nose wrinkled in disgust; a _surface elf._ Athaso knew that she would take great pleasure in cutting that woman’s throat.

The elf woman said something to the dwarf who shrugged and set the box down in front of her. The elf traced a rune in the air and her eyes glowed a soft blue. The rune hovered for a moment and the elf blew it at the box like she was blowing a kiss. The box glowed with that same blue for a moment and the dwarf snatched it into his lap again. He tried to pry the lid off, to no avail. The half orc seemed to laugh at him before focusing her attention on the box and saying something else. There was a very loud knocking sound that made Athaso jump a little bit. The lid to the box swung open, revealing several rolled up scrolls, which the three of them began to investigate.

Athaso tensed, not wanting the surfacers to touch the secrets of her people. She wondered what exactly Vivven was waiting for. For a moment, she considered starting the attack herself instead of waiting for Vivven’s signal, when an arrow flew directly at the dwarf’s head. He dropped the scroll he was holding immediately, catching the arrow in midair.

Immediately the campsite was thrown into chaos. Athaso drew her shadowblade and rushed the campsite. She was met part way by the human, who was _much_ taller than she is. Before her very eyes, the human draws their axe across their arm, drawing their own blood. The blade immediately started to glow brightly, making Athaso curse. She tried to strike out with her blade towards the human, but their sword was shining so brightly she couldn’t look directly at them. As such, her first strike was wide. Athaso kicked out hard toward the human’s stomach, forcing them to stumble backwards. Athaso took advantage of the situation, hooking her ankle around an armored boot. She knocked the human down and stood over them, preparing to plunge her blade into their neck but they rolled out of the way just in time.

With inhuman speed they scrambled into a crouching position and swung their axe into Athaso’s legs. She cried out in pain and took two more jabs at the human with her blade. The human was able to avoid the first strike but the second hits. It pierced into their flesh and while the poison clearly took effect immediately, the necromantic magic bit into the human’s body but not as much as Athaso would have liked. Still, she was able to feel the shadows gather around the blade; the Drow acted as a conductor for the blade and gathered the shadows into one hand, directing them towards the escaped gnome prisoner, temporarily blinding him and forcing him to stumble his way out. This gave Vivven the opportunity to shoot an arrow at him.

The gnome _screamed._ He seems to be in pure agony as the necromantic poisons Vivvan’s arrow bit into him, his body convulsing as his veins turned black and his skin took on a grayish pallor. His yells of pain echoed around the cavern and he fell to his knees. He swayed for a moment, looking like he was about to fall over and pass out. As Athaso blocked a blow from the human, she watched as the surface elf from before rushed over to the gnome. She pulled him from the remaining cloud of shadows, her hands glowing a soft gold. The gnome’s skin suddenly didn’t look so sickly and he didn’t look like he was on death’s door anymore. The elf called something out in Common to her companions that Athaso could not understand.

Out of the corner of her eye, Athaso could see the dwarf man near the campfire punching out towards Zirath and then falling into a defensive stance in order to parry the Seeker’s blade strikes. She could also see arrows from Vivven hit the half orc’s shoulder, staining the shoulder of her dress crimson, as she moved around the campsite to try to get a clear shot on the archer. Unfortunately, very few of the arrows were poisoned and reserved for assassinations, otherwise the half orc would be rolling in agony like the gnome had been. Athaso realized that she lost track of the tiefling when she heard a deafening _BANG!_ and she watched as Zirath’s left shoulder seemed to almost explode. The Drow cried out in pain as the tiefling aimed their strange weapon again, hitting Zirath again in the leg. Although the surface elf was staying purposefully close to the gnome prisoner, likely figuring that the Drow were after him, she cast a spell and a spectral mace appeared close to where Vivvan was and swung.

In her distraction, the human managed to land two more strikes against Athaso. She grimaced and grunted from the pain and made two more attacks of her own against them, both of them landing. She created more shadows surrounding the human; as the darkness was magical it dimmed the light of their sword, making them easier to hit. As for the darkness that she had used to disorient the gnome prisoner, she directed it towards the human. The energy flew into the human, making their veins turn black as the necrotic magic seized their body; unfortunately, once again, it did not hurt them as much as it possibly should have.

A _BOOM_ shook the cavern, light flashing across everyone’s faces; the half orc woman seemed to have been able to find Vivvan and had cast a fireball. The archer was clearly visible, her hair singed and burns all over her face and limbs. The stalactites on the ceiling shook from the blast, a few breaking loose and rocketing downwards. One fell close to Athaso but she was able to dance out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed. Vivvan and the tiefling, however, weren’t so lucky. The stalactite that fell on the tiefling shattered against them and they swore profusely, bleeding heavily from their left side. Vivvan, however, was practically impaled on her stalactite and looked close to death.

Zirath and Athaso did not make any move to help her. As part of the Lolth’s Seekers, they had been taught that if any of them fell in combat that made them weak and the only thing that mattered was the completion of the mission. Athaso didn’t see Vivvan fall but she knew that the other Drow woman was beyond hope.

Athaso lunged forward, swinging her blade in a horizontal slash. The human blocked and the Drow used the momentum of the repelled sword to swing around and come up diagonally from the side, but the human held firm. Athaso was hit in the back by two scorching rays from the half orc, the third crashing into the ground next to her feet, catching her by surprise. The human took advantage of this and used both hands on their axe to land a heavy blow against the block that Athaso had raised that sent the Drow tumbling backwards onto the stone, scrambling for footing. The human kept pace with every roll and scurry the Drow tried to use to get her feet under her; it wasn’t until Athaso rolled _toward_ the human that she was able to knock him down too was she _finally_ able to stand.

_BANG!_ The tiefling continued to use the loud weapon against Zirath, who was bleeding profusely. He was still standing, but he seemed to have knocked the dwarf out. Despite the wounds he was receiving from the tiefling, he was advancing on the surface elf, who seemed to be trying to get to her dwarf companion and had directed her spectral mace towards him in her efforts. The half orc, however, was focusing on trying to assist her human friend and kept trying to cast painful spells at Athaso; she had slashes across her legs and torso, burns on her back and arms. She was _exhausted_ but she refused to allow herself to fail this mission. Still, she would fail her mission if she and the other Seekers had died.

Athaso was just about to call to Zirath to retreat to regroup when she saw the final blow from the tiefling’s weapon and Zirath crumpled to the ground. In the same instant, an armored body _slammed_ into Athaso, knocking her to the ground, the human’s axe sinking into her left shoulder. One leg was trapping hers and a forearm laid heavily across her right arm to keep her from lashing out. She gasped in pain, her eyes darting around as she realized that it was a losing battle. There was going to be no way out of this alive. She scrambled with her right arm and managed to twist her blade around so it was directed at her neck. She was terribly afraid, but it was what she was taught she should do.

“ _Death before capture._ ”

The sorcerer moves to try to cast a spell on her. The human tried to grab her arm. The tiefling shouted something. It was the surface elf, however, that managed to stop her by kicking her blade out of her hands, sending it skittering away from them across the stones. Athaso cried out in frustration and, with the help of the tiefling, the human maneuvered the Drow’s body so that they could tie her wrists and ankles together, which irritated her multiple wounds. The tiefling and human watched her suspiciously while the elf moved from person to person, healing her companions at least partially. The half orc approached the gnome prisoner, speaking to him softly, but Athaso couldn’t understand either of them.

Athaso made no effort to move, simply watching them all. She tried to push away her feelings of failure and instead focused on the present; she didn’t think they were going to kill her, at least not immediately. They must have had a reason to not only prevent herself from killing herself, but also to tie her up. Maybe this meant that Athaso still had an opportunity to complete her mission. She _couldn’t_ fail; her family name depended on it.

Once she was finished healing her companions, the surface elf approached Athaso. She started to reach for her, causing the Drow to flinch away from her. She put up her hands in a defensive posture and spoke in Elvish. “I’m not going to hurt you. I want to help. May I heal you?”

Athaso hesitated for a long moment, looking at her up and down. If they were both standing, the surface elf would be around three inches taller than she. Her silvery eyes seemed to shine as she looked at the Drow very earnestly. She was wearing armor and had a couple of different weapons at her hips, but it was clear that she was not much of a fighter. There weren’t many visible scars on her body and her hands looked soft and smooth, with no calluses. Namely, though, incorporated in her clothing in multiple places were depictions of a pair of eyes surrounded by stars, as well as strange crescent shapes that Athaso recognized from some of her readings as a common symbol used by people on the surface to depict the moons.

The Drow nodded reluctantly and the elf flashed a dazzling smile of relief at her. The elf reached towards her again, her hands glowing the same soft gold as they had glowed before when she healed her companions. The elf touched Athaso’s shoulder very gently and a strange warmth seeped into her, like sinking into a warm bath after a long day of training, and she could feel some of her wounds healing. The elf withdrew her hands and smiled at her again before moving to rejoin her companions. Athaso watched her leave, feeling deeply confused.

\- - - - -

Athaso is lead through the streets of Adrodduth by a couple of guards and the Seeker that had met her at her cell. Walking, she quickly finds, is now something that she has to think about more in depth now that she has so many more legs. Now that she is no longer a Seeker with the High Priestess or other superiors within the organization directly telling her what to do, she has found that she has a habit of overthinking things; this means that as she is marched through the city, she finds herself overthinking walking in her new form and trips several times, at which point some of the Drow nearby laugh or throw rocks at her. Or both.

The Drider tries to ignore the jeers and the disgusted expressions of the Drow around her. Even the guards seem revolted by her, although the Seeker’s expression betrays nothing. For Athaso, it still hurts to move, which she hopes will fade over time, but her training as a Seeker makes it easier than it probably would have been otherwise to ignore the looks she is receiving. She is able to clear her mind and focus solely on walking. Before long, however, images of the surface elf begins to flicker in her mind.

“ _Happy times. Think of happy times,_ ” Athaso tries to remind herself.

Thinking about her, though, and the thought of never being able to see her again makes it much more difficult to block out the insults and mockery from the Drow. The words chip away at the images of happier times, such as the moonlight shining in her hair and she smelled of lilies and morning mist.

_You’ll never see her again, you know. Even if you did escape, High Priestess Medhesi would have her killed as punishment. Not that she would exactly welcome you back with open arms anyway; no one would want to be seen in the company of a monster._

Athaso closes her eyes for a moment before she goes back to focusing on walking as she and her escorts make their way out of the city.


	3. The Compound

Upon leaving the city, the guards and their Seeker guide all aquire riding lizards at the stables. They seem concerned that Athaso is going to try to escape once they’re out of the city, so the guards each tie ropes around her abdomen, acting as leashes as they leave city walls. Athaso holds her head high and tries not to allow the dehumanization to get to her. The leashes, however, in combination with the speed of the lizards made it very difficult for Athaso to move comfortably. Several times she ended up tripping and falling, scraping a couple of her legs. The guards and the Seeker do not acknowledge Athaso falling at all.

They walk for about two hours, pieces of Underwilds visible in the distance, until something of a fortress becomes visible. The walls are made of stone and it seems to be circular in nature. Outside of the walls are a couple of guards standing next to a gate. They watch Athaso and the escorts approach, not looking at all surprised to see them there. Athaso watches them wearily as one of them waves for the gate to open as the guards and the Seeker dismount their riding lizards. When the gates swing open, a couple of guards exit the compound and take the riding lizards by their reins, and start to lead them away.

Athaso’s guard escorts wear the traditional iconography of Lolth woven around the symbol of Adrodduth. These new guards, however, wear the same iconography of the Spider Queen but emblazoned on the chests of their armor is a coat of arms; it is shaped like a shield with elaborate, almost antler-like talons along the top. Within the shield seems to be a curved blade crossed with the stem of a flowering plant. All of the guards are Drow, of course, and they look at Athaso the same way the ones from Adrodduth do. One of the ones that approaches is a woman with a fancier mantle and more intricate designs on her helmet. She looks Athaso up and down before addressing the Seeker.

“This is the one the High Priestess spoke of?” she asks.

“Yes,” says the Seeker. “Is the Lady in?”

“How dangerous is she?” the guard says, eyeing the ropes binding Athaso’s wrists and around her waist.

Athaso bites back the urge to snap that they shouldn’t talk about her like she isn’t here. She reminds herself where she is, though, and whom she is with; she is among Drow again, and she is now a Drider. She is not a person to them anymore.

“As dangerous as the Lady requires her to be; the ropes were only to ensure ease during transport,” the Seeker says listlessly.

“Very well,” the guard says crisply. “Follow me, please.”

The guard turns and starts to lead the way. The Seeker and guards follow her, Athaso in tow. Upon passing through the gates, for a moment the Drider is confused, as for a split second she thinks she has walked into a garden. Surrounding them are a mosaic of different fields. They don’t seem very large, due to the space confinement set by the walls, but they are all fit together with paths winding in between them, most of which leading to the center of the compound, where a tower overlooks the entire area. Athaso considers the set up and privately guesses that, from above, the paths connecting the small plots of land to one another and the center may look like a spider web from above. She can see that there are people working in the fields and although she doesn’t have time too look too closely, she _can_ see a couple of Driders walking the fields too. There are also a couple of scattered buildings here and there against the outer wall of the compound. A handful of guards are visible but not too many, telling Athaso that whomever is in charge here likely doesn’t have much standing in comparison to some of the other, more powerful families.

As the guard approaches the tower, she explains, “Driders are not allowed within the household, so the Lady will be retrieved and inspect the merchandise.” She glances back at Athaso with a frown. “Not that they would fit through the doors anyway.”

Athaso feels her face warm in shame and she remains silent. The Seeker, however, nods. “The guards can wait here with her,” she says, waving a hand at the city guards.

The city guards nod and stand at attention as the compound guard unlocks the tower and heads inside with the Seeker.

“I was told that you used to be one of Lolth’s Seekers,” one of the city guards says to Athaso, sounding disgusted. “Why would you just throw away such a status?”

“Don’t bother,” says the other city guard warily.

“I just don’t understand,” the first guard snaps. “All that prestige and talent and you just chose to throw it away.”

“Give me a sword and we will see my _talent_ ,” hisses Athaso. “I could still kill you if I wanted to.”

The first guard draws his sword and reaches upwards to press the tip of it under her chin. “I will use this if I have to, _Drider._ I don’t care. Even if you were once a Seeker, you’re worth less than the dust on my boot.”

“Careful, now, I don’t think the High Priestess would take kindly to you ruining her ‘merchandise,’” Athaso says, baring her now sharp teeth at the guard. The Drider is pleased to see a glimmer of fear in the guard’s eye at the thought of the wrath of High Priestess Medhesi. “Even so I would be _glad_ to show you just exactly what I’m worth in combat. You’d be dead before you could strike me.”

“Ralynas it isn’t worth it,” snaps the second guard, clearly getting irritated with her companion. “Put your sword away.”

Ralynas glances at the other guard but does as he is told. He and Athaso glower at each other until the compound guard and Seeker return with another Drow woman. She wears a fine, expensive looking silk dress. She looks very elegant and refined in expression and posture, but there’s something about the way her hair is tied up and the small burn and cut scars from her elbows downwards that tells Athaso that she may have some experience working with her hands. She looks up at Athaso appraisingly for a moment before she walks around the Drider slowly in a circle, looking at her up and down. Once she has made a full circle, she steps up close to Athaso and reaches up to grab her face. Athaso has the bizarre urge to bite the woman’s hand, but even if she wanted to she couldn’t as the woman’s grip is like iron. She tilts the Drider’s face from side to side, examining her.

“Yes, this will do,” says the woman, releasing Athaso’s face and taking a step back closer to the compound guard and the Seeker again. Athaso wants to rub her jaw but her hands are still bound behind her back so she rubs it on her shoulder and glowers at the woman.

“And the payment will be as discussed with the High Priestess?” the Seeker says.

“Yes.” The woman snaps her fingers at the compound guard who nods and disappears back into the tower. She returns shortly with a hefty pouch and passes it over to the Seeker. The Seeker weighs the pouch with her hand and carefully tugs at the string with two fingers, peeking inside before nodding and beckoning the two city guards away.

“Do you wish me to accompany the visitors to the stables to retrieve their riding lizards or stay here, my lady?” the compound guard asks.

“Take them to retrieve their mounts,” says the Drow woman, her eyes lingering on the ropes. “I am going to speak to the Drider.”

The compound guard nods and leads the city guards and the Seeker away. The Drow woman stands with her arms folded behind her back as she looks up at Athaso. “My name is Lady Anevehn of House Thimia. I do not care about your name so there is no need to introduce yourself.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same to you,” says Athaso brightly.

Lady Anevehn’s eyes narrow. “Listen closely. You belong to me, now.”

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Athaso says firmly.

“Let me explain something to you because you do not seem to understand the precise nature of your situation,” says Lady Anevehn. “I have rescued you. Most Drider are sent into the wild to die. They go mad or are killed by ropers or surface dwellers. I’m certain some are even killed by other Driders. For _creatures_ like you, it is certain death out there. I am protecting you for as long as I can. If you stay in here, you will have a safe place to sleep and a steady source of food and water. _None_ of those things are guaranteed out in the Underwilds.

“The High Priestess had also informed me why you have been transformed,” Lady Anevehn continues. “I like to know why she transformed certain criminals into Driders to ensure that they will not cause harm to me or my family. I was skeptical about you, knowing your past as a Seeker, but you lived with that Moon Elf near Meliree, correct? I would also like to impress upon you that I am quite… _familiar_ with Meliree. In fact, most of my stock comes from that town. It would be terrible if something were to happen to your Moon Elf friend.”

“She is perfectly capable of taking care of herself,” says Athaso sharply, ignoring the stab of fear in the pit of her stomach.

“Is that a risk you’re willing to take? You know what the Seekers are like,” says Lady Anevehn casually, as if she were discussing what she is planning to have for dinner.

Athaso knows that her wife is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She’s strong. And smart. And wise. She, with the help of the others, had managed to fight off Zirath, Vivven, and Athaso herself. Of course, though, that was a few years ago. Athaso’s wife is alone now. Sure, the rest of their friends would come to visit every now and then, but for the most part she and the rest of their group was retired. Tierney lives in town, but they mostly keep to themself and they aren’t always there, as they have something of a sense of wanderlust. How long would it take for someone to notice that the kindly cleric in the little cottage hadn’t gone into Meliree for a few weeks? Months? How long would it take for someone to go to her home and find her with her throat slashed as she lay in her bed, waiting for her wife to return?

Some of what Athaso is thinking must show on her face because Lady Anevehn smiles. “I’m glad you understand. I suggest you behave yourself, yes? Listen to _exactly_ what I say.”

Athaso bears her teeth at Lady Anevehn but says nothing. She nods stiffly. “ _For now, at least,_ ” thinks Athaso bitterly.

“Very well.” Lady Anevehn waves one of the guards over. “Untie the Drider and walk her over to the pens where the other ones sleep. They will join her shortly when they’re finished rounding up all of the normal slaves.”


	4. The Drider

The building set aside for the Drider looks more like the stables used for horses that Athaso saw on the surface. There are exactly eight stalls, three of which have straw and a fair amount of webbing in them. Now that Athaso’s wrists are untied, she is able to entertain the indignity of the whole situation as she takes some straw from the pile near the front door and places it into one of the empty stalls. She lays down on top of it; it isn’t comfortable in the slightest, but it’s a far cry better than the stone floor of her cell in the High Priestess’s dungeons. The exhaustion that has been creeping in all day slams into her full force. Her body aches and her eyelids droop. Athaso has to shift a lot in order to get into a position where she is able to rest.

Unfortunately, she is not able to rest for very long. After her decades of training as an assassin, Athaso has become a very light sleeper. She is able to hear things moving around her, whispering to one another. Athaso stays still and pretends to be asleep as she listens to the unfamiliar voices.

“I saw her come in. There were- there were lots of ropes around her?”

“Do you think she’s dangerous?”

“I- maybe, I don’t- I don’t know.” There’s something of a rustling or skittering sound that Athaso hazards a guess as the person getting closer.

“Hey, wake up,” one of the voice calls out, louder.

Athaso feigns waking. She yawns and opens her eyes to find a pair of red eyes peering _directly_ into her own. Athaso yelps and reflexively swings out with her right fist but the person scrambles backwards. The person reflexively draws to their full height; she _towers_ over where Athaso lays, her hands jumping up to her mouth.

“Oh gosh I’m- I’m _so_ sorry I didn’t mean to startle you!” the unfamiliar Drider says.

“Generally getting in people’s face while they’re sleeping isn’t a good idea if you don’t want to startle them,” grumbles Athaso.

“Well I- I didn’t realize that Bolaak was going to shout at you!” she exclaims, waving her arms.

Athaso gets to her eight aching tarsus. Standing before her are three other Drider. The closest one is a young woman with white hair that is twisted into a braid that rests on her shoulder. Her bangs are long enough that they are falling into her eyes and she frequently has to sweep them aside in order to squint at Athaso, telling the former Seeker that maybe this Drider needed glasses when she was a Drow and has not had the ability to get some since her transformation. She has a round, youthful face and wide red eyes. Athaso feels a stab of disappointment that this Drider is taller than she is, but she figures that since she was shorter than the average Drow before, it would be the same way among other Drider.

The second Drider is male. His hair is cut short in a militaristic fashion. Being male, his spider half is smaller than that of Athaso’s and the other female Drider. His eyes are gray, which reminds Athaso of her wife a little bit, but his eyes are more washed out and don’t have the same moonlight shine. He is fairly skinny and doesn’t look like he has had a decent meal in a long time, but he looks a little bit older than the first Drider. He stands with his arms folded over his chest as he looks at Athaso with a rather unimpressed expression. Athaso matches his gaze for a moment before directing her attention towards the other Drider, who also seems to be male. He is older than the first two, however, and has the scars to prove it. His shoulders are broad and his hair is long and stringy. He stays several feet back and says nothing, just watching the scene with hooded amber eyes.

“Who are you?” Athaso asks cautiously.

“I’m Forryn,” says the woman Drider.

“I’m Bolaak and that’s Nariion,” the younger man says. He looks at Athaso up and down skeptically and adds, “Who are you?”

“I’m Athaso of House Nathven,” she says automatically, wincing as soon as the words leave her mouth.

A bark of laughter escapes Bolaak’s mouth as he misinterprets Athaso’s wince. “Not anymore you’re not. You’re a Drider; you don’t belong to any House anymore.”

“I recognize that name!” exclaims Forryn suddenly. “House Nathven! I’ve read records about--”

Dread twists in the depth of Athaso’s stomach and she glowers at Forryn. Forryn immediately wilts under Athaso’s gaze and she feels a stab of regret, but she’s glad that she prevented Forryn from speaking any more.

“I abandoned that name even before I became a Drider,” says Athaso lowly. “I don’t use that name anymore anyway. I… guess it was just a reflex since I’m among Drow again.”

“‘Again?’” Forryn asks, an oddly hopeful note in her tone that Athaso can’t quite place.

“None of us are Drow,” snaps Bolaak. “We’re Drider. Are you stupid or in denial?”

“I know that,” Athaso says, scowling. “I am neither stupid nor in denial.”

“So then why did you call us Drow?” Bolaak demands. “It’s easier if you just accept things now.”

Athaso opens her mouth to argue but Forryn inserts herself in between the two of them, looking nervous and wringing her hands. “U-um so, uh, do- do you know what it is Lady Anevehn needs us to do here?”

“No, she didn’t really talk to me much except to threaten my wife,” Athaso says darkly.

“Mostly she needs us to keep an eye on the other slaves,” Forryn explains.

“Intimidate them into staying in line,” says Bolaak. “Do you know how to do that?”

Athaso gives him a sardonic smile. “I was a Seeker; of course I know how to intimidate people.”

Bolaak looks begrudgingly impressed and Nariion, who has yet to speak, has a glimmer of interest in his eyes. Forryn, however, looks a little more anxious and takes a step or two backwards, although that makes her squint a little bit more.

“I suppose that means you know how to use a whip?” Bolaak asks.

Athaso’s smile fades. “Yes but it’s not my weapon of choice. Are we expected to whip the slaves?”

“Only when they slack off or misbehave,” says Bolaak listlessly.

“No,” Athaso says flatly.

“You’ll have to,” Bolaak says. “Don’t worry, they’re all surfacers and weaker races, like goblinoids.”

“Fuck that,” says Athaso, “I won’t do it. These people don’t deserve this.”

“You’ll have to, or the guards will beat you within an inch of your life,” says Bolaak, rolling his eyes, “or worse, Lady Anevehn will experiment on you.”

Athaso doesn’t really understand what he means by “experiment,” but she chooses not to press that quite yet. “They’re innocent people that were _kidnapped_ from their homes. They’ve already been brutalized more than anyone ever deserves. I _know_ how our people treat their slaves, or anyone that falls below them in the hierarchy and I made a promise that I wouldn’t contribute to that anymore.”

Bolaak throws his arms up into the air in exasperation. “ _Why_ of all the Driders in the Underdark did I have to be trapped here with a bunch of surface-loving morons?”

“Hey!” Forryn protests.

Bolaak ignores her and moves to one of the webbing and straw-filled stalls. As he settles down, he calls out to them, “I’m going to want to sleep so I need you all to shut up.”

Athaso glares in his direction before she starts to get ready to settle down again. Nariion’s gaze lingers on her for a moment before he heads to his own stall. Forryn, however, shifts nervously for a moment before addressing the former Seeker. “It- it will be more comfortable if you lay down some webbing. The straw is… um, itchy.”

“I… don’t know how,” Athaso admits reluctantly.

Forryn smiles shyly. “I can teach you how. I’ve been a Drider for… uh, a year now? Two? I kind of lose track.”

“I thought that Drider go mad fairly quickly,” says Athaso, surprised.

“That’s just what they say, but that’s not necessarily true. There are ways to stave it off. Some Drider never go mad at all, or so I’ve read,” Forryn says brightly. “Nariion, for example, has been here in the compound for quite a while. Certainly longer than Bolaak or I have. I can tell you a bit about Drider, actually, if you’re ever curious.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you become a Drider?” Athaso asks.

Forryn opens her mouth to say something but before she can, Bolaak shouts, “SHUT UP! I’m trying to sleep!”

“Oh! I’m- I’m sorry!” Forryn stammers. She shoots a glance back at Athaso before scurrying to her stall. “Sleep well!”

Athaso sighs and settles her aching body back down into the straw. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but she is eventually able to fall asleep.

\- - - - -

Athaso watched the surfacers as they awoke and went about their morning routines. The dwarf started to meditate, the elf praying nearby. The tiefling and the human sat next to each other, the former cleaning their strange weapon as they both chatted in Common. Athaso, unfortunately, could not understand. The gnome prisoner and the half orc were cooking a breakfast together over the small campfire that had been built. As they had rested, Athaso had tried to wiggle free from her bindings but the knotwork of the human was too strong and the Drow had eventually given up and fallen asleep. She did not try to remove her bindings that morning, however; instead she merely opted to observe the surfacers. That way when she _did_ escape from them, she would be able to have a better understanding of how they worked. The human and the tiefling, for example, seemed to be the ones most suspicious of her. As the two of them chatted, every now and then one at a time one of them would glance her way.

As Athaso continued to watch the campsite, the surface elf finished her praying. She glanced around the campsite, smiling at the gnome before approaching Athaso, who looked up at her apprehensively. She said something in Common to her and then waited for a moment while Athaso’s green eyes searched her silver ones, trying to figure her out.

“I suppose you don’t speak Common, then,” she said in Elvish, smiling at her. “That’s okay. I just asked you if you wanted some breakfast. You must be hungry.”

Athaso’s eyes narrowed; she wasn’t stupid. Poison was a common tool among the Drow. It was used to remove those in power with some regularity, even if the person in question was a family member of the poisoner. People were power hungry and poison was a very clean way of getting rid of those in your way without getting your hands dirty. There was absolutely no _way_ that Athaso was going to accept food from these people.

The Drow looked at the elf and said, in the same language, “What do you want with me?”

The elf sighed and sat down next to her. “We’re kind of trying to figure that out. Tierney thinks that we should just kill you. Hymn has suggested we tie you to a stalagmite and leave you there.” She pointed at the human and the tiefling respectively. Athaso privately took note of their names.

“What do you think?” Athaso asked carefully.

“I think that you deserve a chance,” said the elf. Something about her expression and the look in her eyes told the Drow that she was telling the truth. Athaso sighed quietly through her nose and looked away, down toward her tied up ankles. The elf continued to sit next to her in silence until she said, “Are you going to ask me why?”

“Why should I care why?” said Athaso pointedly.

The elf continued on anyway, despite the Drow’s hostility. “I believe that everyone, no matter what, deserves a chance. There can be good in everyone.”

Athaso scoffed. The elf raised a blue eyebrow. “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe that what you’re saying is subjective. What you see as good, I see as thievery,” said Athaso, nodding her head towards the gnome and the box of scrolls.

“Is that what you personally see as thievery or what you were told?” the elf said, tilting her head to one side like a curious puppy. Athaso said nothing. “Do you know what is in that box?”

“Scrolls,” Athaso answered obediently, wondering what the elf was getting at. “They belong to my people and you stole them.”

The elf shook her head. “No. These actually rites of the goddess Eldath. Orwin, over there--” She points at the gnome. “--is one of her clerics.”

“Suppose I _did_ believe you,” said Athaso skeptically. “My people and I belong to Lolth. Why would we want the rites of one of the surface gods?”

“Orwin had gone down into the Underdark in hopes of finding followers of Eilistraee,” the elf explained.

Athaso looked at the elf blankly. “Who’s Eilistraee?” She shook her head. “I still don’t believe that those scrolls are what you say they are.”

“I can show you,” said the elf. She got to her feet. “Wait here.”

“As if I have a choice,” snapped Athaso.

She watched the elf head across the campsite and approach the gnome, Orwin apparently. Athaso peered over at him, mulling over the fact that the High Priestess hadn’t actually given her or the others any information on the prisoner. Usually when they were sent out to get rid of someone they were given at least some information on the person they had to kill. For some of the Seekers, the anger from finding out what crime the target committed drove them forward. Athaso had written the lack of information off as their target being the scrolls rather than the prisoner, but even for retrieval missions the Seekers were usually given the _name_ of the person in possession of the object.

“ _The High Priestess only gave you the information you needed to know,_ ” Athaso told herself.

The elf had a brief conversation with the gnome before she headed over to the box. She picked it up and started to make her way back over towards Athaso. The human, Tierney, noticed and called something over to her. The elf called back over to them in a reassuring tone of voice. She returned to Athaso and sat down next to her, although Tierney was still watching the two of them closely. The box, now that Athaso could see it up close, did not carry the iconography of Lolth that was common among Drow society. In fact, it looked rather plain. It was made of a simple wood with a brass lock on it.

“They had taken Orwin’s key when they captured him and cast Arcane Lock on it, according to Shayl, likely so that none of the Drow could look at the scrolls,” the elf said, opening the lid to the box with two delicate brown hands, “but we managed to open it with a couple of spells.”

The elf selected one of the scrolls seemingly at random. Athaso leaned forward with interest, despite herself. The elf unrolled the scroll, her silver eyes flicking across the parchment for a moment, before she held it open and showed it to Athaso. Unfortunately, the Drow found that she could not read it. She tried to swallow her disappointment.

“It’s written in Common,” said the elf. “I figure that if these scrolls had belonged to your people they would have been written in Undercommon.”

Athaso fell silent, looking at the unreadable scroll as if by looking at it longer she could suddenly make what the elf was showing her and what the High Priestess had told her make sense. As the elf put the scroll away, the Drow said, “I was told only what was necessary for my mission.”

“Of course,” said the elf understandingly. Athaso hated her in that moment for the compassion in her tone.

The elf rolled up the scroll and put it carefully back in the box with the others. Athaso wanted her to leave, but she continued to sit next to the Drow in silence, the two of them watching the campsite together. The dwarf, once he was done with his meditation, joined the others. He seemed to be joking around a little bit with the tiefling, Hymn. The half orc called over to the two of them, her expression wry, and all three of them threw their heads back in laughter. Athaso found herself thinking of the days camping with Vivvan and Zirath in pursuit of these surfacers, which had mostly been spent in silence without talking to one another beyond discussing what order they would take their watch.

“What’s your name?” the elf asked suddenly. Athaso froze and whipped back towards her. The elf’s expression was open and honest.

“You first,” said Athaso.

“My name is Ma’lyra,” the elf said kindly.

The Drow hesitated for a very long time. She took a deep breath. “My name is Athaso.”


	5. The Deal

The surfacers were looking at the collapsed tunnel to the mineshaft through which they had entered the Underdark. As they had traveled with her the last couple of days from the Middledark to the Upperdark in order to get back to the way they had entered the caverns, Athaso hadn’t felt the need to warn them and she felt some measure of grim pleasure as she observed them all talking to one another in nervous tones of voice. Ma’lyra and the half orc, Shayl, seemed to be trying to reassure the others. The dwarf, Telrum, seemed confident, but Tierney and Hymn both seemed frustrated. Orwin was more panicked than anything else.

They had cut the bindings around the Drow’s ankles so that Tierney didn’t have to carry her. She was watched at all times, of course; they didn’t trust her as far as they could throw her. Athaso didn’t care, though, because she didn’t trust them either. The only one she was _close_ to trusting was Ma’lyra, partially due to the fact that she’s the only one that Athaso had a language in common with but also partially because the Drow found that she was able to get some information from her. Athaso knew that she was not in a position where she would be able to intimidate any of these surfacers so she was forced to fall back into diplomacy. She wasn’t very good at it, but she found that she was able to trade information with Ma’lyra in a way. Athaso didn’t say anything that would compromise her people, of course, but strangely the surface elf didn’t seem to have any interest in asking those sorts of questions anyway. Mostly Ma’lyra asked Athaso about her personal beliefs and what sort of things that she knew about Lolth. Ma’lyra, in return, discussed her own beliefs and her own experiences. The surface elf explained that she’s a Moon Elf and she followed a goddess called Selûne. Athaso had never heard of this goddess, although she did recognize that she didn’t know much about the gods of the surface to begin with, but Ma’lyra explained that Selûne was a deity of moonlight and her teachings emphasized compassion and guidance towards all. Athaso was confused, as she had been told that moonlight was a thing of cruelty and hatred that was utilized against the Drow, but she would be lying if she didn’t say she wasn’t intrigued by the Moon Elf’s interpretation of the moonlight.

As Hymn and Shayl started to bicker a little bit, likely about what their next step would be now that the entrance through the mine was collapsed, Ma’lyra approached Athaso. “Do you know of any other ways to escape this area and get to the surface?”

“I may,” said Athaso mildly. “What would I get in return for sharing this information with you?”

Ma’lyra frowned and her eyebrows drew together. “It will certainly make the others more likely to be willing to release you.”

Tierney approached Ma’lyra from behind and stood behind her with their arms folded across their chest. They asked something of the Moon Elf, who responded gently. Athaso looked at them coldly, the healing wound from their axe in her shoulder still twinging slightly. Tierney and Ma’lyra went back and forth for a moment before the Moon Elf turned back towards the Drow. Before she could speak, however, Athaso said, “I’m willing to make a deal. I will guide you all out of the Underdark. I’ll need my sword, my hand crossbow. I will also need the box of scrolls in return. I will tell the High Priestess that you’re dead. I would be killed the moment she found out about my capture and it would be for the best if I just lied.”

Ma’lyra mulled this over herself for a moment. She called over to the rest of the group and relayed what Athaso said to them. Athaso waited patiently, silently resolving that when she returned to the High Priestess she would petition her for permission to learn Common. That was the first time she had been sent after people from the world above, sure, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be sent after them again. On top of that, many of the people she was sent to assassinate or capture to be turned into a Drider were people that were trying to leave for the surface. The concern was that they would leak the secrets of their city to their enemies above. The Drow were far from vulnerable, of course, but one could never be too careful.

“We have come to an agreement,” said Ma’lyra in Elvish, turning towards Athaso again. “You will be untied, but the others don’t feel comfortable giving you back your weapons until we have reached the surface. You will, however, be given the box and _most_ of the scrolls. Does that sound like a fair deal to you?”

Athaso took a moment to mull the offer over. “And how would you expect me to defend myself should we be attacked?”

Ma’lyra translated the Drow’s words. Tierney laughed grimly and said something in Common for Ma’lyra to tell Athaso. “They said, ‘just try to stay back and if you try to escape, I’ll track you down,’” said the elf, frowning slightly.

Athaso glowered at the human. “I’d like to see you try.”

Ma’lyra bit her lip and chose not to translate that for her companions but Tierney seemed to get the gist of what Athaso had said and matched her glare, folding their arms over their chest. The Drow stood up to her full height. Granted, that wasn’t very tall; Ma’lyra had about four inches on her and Tierney was a half a foot taller than their Moon Elf friend. As such, even if her arms hadn’t been tied up, there likely wouldn’t have been a strong chance that she would be able to intimidate the heavily scarred human anyway. Still, Athaso did her best to make sure that every bit of dislike was visible on her expression.

“I will take the deal,” said Athaso, still glaring at Tierney, “but I will not tell you any more information than what _I_ feel like you need to know.”

Ma’lyra’s face broke into a dazzling grin that seems to light up the cavern. Athaso felt her cheeks grow warm and she looked down towards the cave floor as the Moon Elf excitedly translated for her friends. Tierney drew their axe once Ma’lyra finished speaking, making Athaso’s shoulders tense, but instead of attacking her like she felt instinctively they simply cut the bindings around her wrists. They held their axe out for another moment, their brown eyes meeting Athaso’s green, their message clear; _if you mess this up, I will kill you._ Athaso maintained eye contact with them while massaging her wrists.

“So,” Ma’lyra said, still smiling, “where do we go from here?”

“There are tunnels that connect the Upperdark, Middledark, and Lowerdark. There is a large passage connecting the Middledark and Upperdark; it was in this passage where you killed my companions. We are now in the Upperdark. There are other tunnels that connect everything between the layers. The largest tunnel around here is called Uz Kegzox, which should take you back to the surface,” explained Athaso, trying to look at Ma’lyra but avoid noticing her smile at the same time.

“Uz Kegzox,” repeated Ma’lyra. “And it’s safe?”

Athaso shrugged. “My people put guardians in there, just for safety. We would rather not deal with any Illithids or… other irritants coming up from the Lowerdark.”

“What kind of guardians?” Ma’lyra asked.

“I suppose you’ll have to see,” Athaso said, folding

Ma’lyra translated the Drow’s words. They all spoke to one another for a few minutes, Athaso’s irritation that she couldn’t understand them prickling. She folded her arms and waited for Ma’lyra to turn towards her again. “Lead the way.”

Athaso did as she was bade. She guided the group through the caverns, keenly aware of the distrust from the vast majority of the people she was traveling with. She kept an eye on Tierney in particular; she could see her shadowblade at their hip, just out of reach. It was almost _taunting_ her. Multiple times she considered grabbing the sword and making a run for it, but she was vastly outnumbered. In her observation, she discovered that Telrum Iron-Hand was very quick. Athaso was a fast runner, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to take a gamble on trying to outrun the dwarf. No, as much as she hated it, guiding them to Uz Kegzox would be her best chance at survival. She was loyal to the High Priestess and Lolth, of course, but Athaso felt in that instance it would be wiser to focus on self preservation.

It took them about a day to reach the Upperdark entrance of Uz Kegzox. They had encountered a handful of kobolds along the way, but they were quickly dispatched by those with weapons. The stone doors leading to Uz Kegzox was Svirfneblin in nature. They were locked, of course, but using the same spell that she had used to unlock the box, Shayl unlocked the heavy stone doors. They swung open slowly, revealing more darkness within. Tierney held up their torch and peered inside.

“That is not a wise decision,” said Athaso. “A stealthier approach would be best here. I will cast dancing lights if necessary.”

Tierney, after Ma’lyra translated, frowned but they doused their torch. They moved closer to Shayl and put their hand on her shoulder in order to use her as a guide in the darkness. Athaso looked around at everyone else and pressed a finger to her lips, crouching down and starting to move as silently as possible. The others followed her lead to the best of their ability, but irritatingly some of the members of their little group weren’t very quiet, such as Tierney in their scalemail armor.

Strange sounds were present in the darkness. Incoherent whispers seemed to emerge from the darkness in different directions, along with a mechanical sort of clinking. Athaso stopped moving and indicated everyone else should do the same with a flick of her hand, hushing them quietly. Without the clinking of Tierney’s armor, the sounds began to fade as the creatures in the darkness skitter around the stalagmite. Other than the clinking, the whispers, and the pounding of Athaso’s heartbeat. Everything was still. For a brief moment, Athaso thought that they were going to get away with it, but Orwin whimpered at the sounds, drawing closer to Ma’lyra. The sounds began to draw closer and closer until the Drow could see one of the guardians left by her people in the tunnel to guard the entrances to the different levels of the Underdark.

As promised, Athaso’s dancing lights flare into life around the seven of them. A large, spider-like construct loomed above the group, standing at about twelve feet tall, with the Drow’s dancing lights gleaming against eight, cleaver-like blades which spanned around fourteen feet. Two black primary eyes looked down at the group along with four smaller eyes gleaming malevolently. Athaso knew that retrievers were usually found in the Abyss in order to capture demons for rituals, but several had been left in the tunnel to combat some Mind Flayers that had come through Uz Kegzox to attempt to seize some of Adrodduth’s resources a few centuries ago. Athaso had hoped that their group would be able to be quiet enough to avoid drawing the attention of the retriever, but _clearly_ the vast majority of the people she found herself traveling with weren’t trained in stealth like she was.

Telrum was the first of their group to try to dash forward to try to strike out at the retriever. He punched out against it, his first two hits glancing across the construct’s metal body, but the third landed and managed to dent the retriever’s metal body, ever so slightly. The dwarf was able to look pleased with himself for a split second before the largest of the retriever’s eyes began to glow. Athaso opened her mouth to shout a warning but before she could say anything, a green beam shot out of the retriever’s eyes directly focused towards the dwarf. Telrum’s body seized up and he fell to the ground. The retriever leaped forward, rearing up for a moment before its front legs pierced his body. A strangled cry escaped his partially open mouth but his paralyzed body was unable to react much more beyond that.

Orwin scrambled away from the retriever as quickly as possible, hiding behind a stalagmite. Shayl backed away from it as well, moving close to where Orwin was hiding, a pink stream of magic appearing in her hand which she used to lash out against the retriever like a whip. The retriever made a hissing sound in response as the half orc’s spell seemed to take effect. Tierney drew their axe across their arm as they rushed forward to strike at the retriever, making the blade burst into flames with their blood. Hymn circled around it, trying to find a way to pierce the retriever’s armor. For a moment, as the adventurers landed attacks against its metal shell, it stayed still as the pink from the spell swirled and sparkled around its eyes. As Athaso lacked a weapon, the best that she was able to do was shout abuse at the retriever in Undercommon in an effort to distract the retriever long enough for the surfacers to land attacks.

Ma’lyra, however, was standing still and staring at the retriever in horror.

The retriever, with Shayl’s spell still sparkling around its head, ran directly in the Moon Elf’s direction. Tierney managed to land a blow on it as it ran in the cleric. The retriever didn’t attack her, but Ma’lyra seemed to be petrified in her fear, even as the construct managed to shake away the last of Shayl’s spell and Tierney’s ax pierced its body. The retriever, with Shayl’s spell gone, reared up to try to attack Ma’lyra. Acting on instinct, Athaso darted forward and shoved Ma’lyra out of the way. She earned herself a slash on her back from the retriever for her trouble. She wasn’t entirely sure why she did it. Nevertheless, Ma’lyra was able to stumble a little bit but remain standing out of reach of the retriever.

“What are you doing?” Athaso shouted at the Moon Elf in their shared language. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

That seemed to be enough to shake Ma’lyra out of her stupor. She nodded and ran off to try to assist Telrum. Athaso went back to dancing around the retriever out of its reach, shouting at it in Undercommon while Hymn’s small cannon blasted and Shayl’s spells slammed against its metal exterior. Tierney, however, instead of trying to attack it with their axe again seemed to be grappled in an inner debate with themself. They seemed to curse for a moment before they drew Athaso’s sword, tossing it towards the Drow.

Athaso, despite her surprise, caught it easily. Tierney said something to her that she could not understand, but it’s clear that they were warning her not to mess up the chance that they were giving her.

“They’re immune to necromancy, poison, and psychic magic,” Athaso called out to Ma’lyra to relay to the others. With that, Athaso ran into the fray to engage with the retriever.

It was quickly dispatched after that. Athaso was trained to work in a team, after all, so with the others helping fight in the battle she was able to use their distraction to pinpoint its weak points. It was Telrum, who had been revived by Ma’lyra, who got the final blow however. Athaso was quite impressed by his willingness to get close to the retriever’s face, especially following how it had paralyzed him. He had punched directly in its face, the metal denting beneath his fist, and the retriever collapsed.

Ma’lyra healed everyone, including Athaso to her surprise. The Drow relished the feeling of her blade at her hip once again as they continued on their way. It did not escape Athaso’s notice when Ma’lyra fell into step beside her. Athaso looked at her sideways as Ma’lyra smiled and tucked a couple of her coils behind her pointed ears.

“Thank you,” said Ma’lyra.

Athaso didn’t have to ask what the Moon Elf is referring to. She waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, really,” Ma’lyra said seriously. “Normally I don’t freeze like that, spiders just freak me out. I appreciate you shoving me out of the way. I’m sorry that you got hurt because of it.”

Athaso could not help the surprised laugh that escaped her mouth. “Really? You’re arachnophobic?”

Ma’lyra’s cheeks darkened a little bit but she laughed too. “Really! I don’t like how they move. It’s… creepy. A giant one bit my sister once and she was in agony for weeks afterwards.”

“So then why did you decide to go to a mission to the Underdark?” Athaso asked, amused. “You may not know this but there tends to be a lot of spiders down here.”

“Well, yes,” said Ma’lyra, twisting her hair between two fingers, “but I thought that helping someone in need was more important than my own fears.”

Athaso paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. “You have a very interesting way of looking at the world.”

Ma’lyra smiled again. “I’d be glad to share more of it with you.”


	6. The Madness

Athaso, despite the change in her role, finds herself easing fairly comfortably back into Drow society. Although she may have left this life behind seven years ago she still finds the society of her origin to be easier to understand in a lot of ways than the people on the surface. It makes sense to Athaso, logically, but now that she recognizes the cruelty of Drow society from an outsider’s perspective it makes her a little uncomfortable the ease she is able to reintegrate.

Well, perhaps “reintegrate” isn’t the correct word. There’s no way that Athaso will ever fully be a part of Drow society again. Her new body permanently marks her as an outsider; something to be reviled and looked down upon. Frankly, even if Athaso _was_ still a Drow she wouldn’t want to or be able to reintegrate into Drow society. She has a home up on the surface. She also has more freedom than she has experienced in her entire life. She is much happier, too, which is frankly surprising given everything that she has been told her entire life. _Ma’lyra_ makes her happy and helps Athaso understand the surface world.

Now, though, Athaso finds herself back in the Underdark and surrounded by the hierarchy and politics surrounding Adrodduth. One of the key difference, however, is that now Athaso is at the bottom of the hierarchy. As a member of Lolth’s Seekers, she had a certain level of prestige. As a Drider slave Athaso is now the lowest of the low. Something that remains the same, though, is that people seem to be afraid of her still. As a Drow on the surface strangers were distrustful of Athaso at best but many people were downright hostile to her or fearful. In fact, Tierney’s younger sister had brandished a sword at her at their first meeting. As a Drider, the fear of the other slaves seems more… primal, in a way. The surfacers saw her as a threat out of fear that she would kill them, of course, but the captured slaves saw her a threat in that they are scared she is going to eat them. Despite knowing Common, nothing she seemed to do or say seemed to make them understand that she was not going to hurt them. Still, she does her best to speak to the humanoid slaves in their native language to warn them when a guard is coming close. She _never_ uses the whip provided for her.

The only slaves that aren’t afraid of her are the other Drider, although Athaso isn’t really sure how to feel about most of them. Bolaak is self centered and doesn’t seem to really give the people they are supposed to be watching which rubs Athaso the wrong way. She’s frankly suspicious of Nariion, who hasn’t said a word to Athaso for the five days she has been in the compound. Forryn, however, Athaso is rather fond of. In her first couple of days in the compound Forryn had explained things to Athaso about how things work. The slaves were to harvest the alchemical ingredients for Lady Anevehn, who would use them in her laboratory in the tower. None of the Drider were quite sure what it was like in there, but sometimes the Lady would take some of the humanoid slaves inside; some of them never came out, some of them would be returned to the fields deathly ill. It was the job of the Driders to observe those in the fields and punish them should they “slack off.”

Forryn also tells Athaso basic things about existing as a Drider, such as how to build webs and that the ache in their bodies is chronic, but it wouldn’t be so bad with time. On Athaso’s fifth night in the compound, she feels comfortable enough to approach Forryn about something that has long been on her mind. Returning to the building after a day at work in the fields, Athaso quietly approaches Forryn’s stall.

“May I ask you more questions?” she whispers, aware of Nariion and Bolaak settling in inside their own stalls and not wanting to bother them.

Forryn practically beams at Athaso and nods. “What can I help y-you with?”

“I was hoping to ask about… the madness of the Drider’s?” Athaso says cautiously. “I want to know… well, how long it takes usually and what kind of madness it is.”

Everything she knew about the Driders had told her that they all eventually went mad. Before her transformation, Athaso had never actually met any Driders; her job was to capture the renegades and return them to the High Priestess while they were still Drow so she didn’t ever deal with them afterwards. The reason why the Seeker had been sent with her as an escort was because Athaso’s own history as a Seeker made her more dangerous than the average Drider in a certain way. What she did know about the Drider was that they all eventually went mad, although she didn’t know the details. A big part of her daydreams about being able to see Ma’lyra again one last time before she loses any sense of self.

There is something in the expression in Forryn’s face that makes Athaso add quickly, “It’s really okay if you don’t know.”

“Well… I- I don’t know much, mind you. Um… most of what I know is from Nariion,” admits Forryn.

“I don’t expect you to have all the answers,” Athaso says truthfully, “just anything you can tell me would be a big help.”

Forryn hesitates for a long moment. “Have you- have you been having… thoughts? Thoughts that you don’t normally have?”

Athaso looks at Forryn blankly. “What do you mean?”

Forryn flaps her hands for a moment, trying to find the right words. “Thoughts like… You aren’t good enough. Or- or- or that you’re better off dead, or that you deserve to suffer, or that you’re better off away from other people, or people you love hate you… Stuff like that?”

Athaso pauses, Forryn’s words sinking in. In truth, the last several days she has been engaged in a silent battle with herself. She _desperately_ wants to see her wife again, escape to the surface and face whatever consequences may come together as a couple, but her every instinct has been screaming at her that it would be better if she stayed in the Underdark. _The High Priestess will send Seekers after Ma’lyra… You’ll never make it to the surface… Ma’lyra won’t recognize you… Ma’lyra will be_ afraid _of you… Do you really want to go up there and discover she doesn’t love you anymore? See the hate in her eyes? The fear? She_ will _be afraid of you. What if she calls the others to attack you?_

Athaso loves her wife more than anything and she doesn’t know if she would be able to bare it should Ma’lyra react in a fearful way. She didn’t want her wife to ever be afraid of her for any reason.

“I… have been having those thoughts,” she admits. “Does that mean that I’m going mad?”

“No, no, no!” Forryn says quickly, waving her hands. “Um, that- those thoughts _are_ the madness in a way?”

Athaso stares at Forryn and waits for her to elaborate. Forryn pauses for a moment, trying to find her words. “The idea that Driders go mad is… a myth. At- at least according to Nariion.”

“Nariion actually talks to you?” says Athaso, raising an eyebrow. “He hasn’t said a word to me since I got here.”

“He’s… quiet but he’s a really kind guy when you get to know him,” Forryn says reassuringly. “He kind of reminds me of my dad. But, um, anyway he’s been a Drider for longer than Bolaak or I so he knows a lot. The madness that everyone- um, that Drow say always affects the Drider eventually? That’s a myth, in- in a certain way. We don’t go insane in the way that they say we do. Instead we have these… intrusive thoughts. We constantly have these thoughts that everyone hates us or- or we’re bad people or we’re terrible.”

Athaso’s heart sinks. “So they don’t really go away?”

“Well, not- not as far as I know,” confesses Forryn, “but there are things that can be done to make them less… loud.”

“Like what?” Athaso says, leaning forward eagerly.

“At some point the thoughts will… they’ll try to convince you that you’re better off on your own for one reason or another. They’ll convince you that you’re dangerous, um, or that you’re so awful you shouldn’t be around people at all,” Forryn says. “Leaving is the worst thing you can do because being isolated makes it easier for the thoughts to really get to you, you know? Driders… at that point, if they’re alone… Well I haven’t, um, seen it myself, but I’ve read a lot about it and I’ve put some of my readings in context with what Nariion said. The isolation and the- the thoughts get to the Drider so much they start to do, um, reckless things like pick fights with ropers or Drow guards.”

Athaso nods slowly. “I suppose that makes sense. What else can you do?”

“Well, Nariio said that it helps to… have something good to focus on. Something that reminds you that you were once a person,” Forryn says.

Ma’lyra’s face immediately leaps to the forefront of Athaso’s mind and she smiles a little bit.

“Can I, um, can I ask you something now?”

“Oh. Of course,” Athaso says, surprised.

“You said you were one of Lolth’s Seekers, right?” Forryn asks hesitantly.

“Yes I was,” admits Athaso. “I’m not proud of it, but it’s what I needed to do to save the name of House Nathven.”

Forryn hesitates. “I- I read about House Nathven. I used to be an archivist? I don’t know if I mentioned… Your father’s name was Elevos of House Nathven, wasn’t it?”

There’s a twisting feeling in the pit of Athaso’s stomach but she says softly, “Yes, he was.”

“He, um, was something of an inspiration to me, but he wasn’t actually what I wanted to ask about,” Forryn says quickly. “And, um, you- you don’t have to answer? If you don’t want to? Uh--”

“Forryn, it’s okay,” Athaso says reassuringly. “Take your time.”

The other Drider takes a deep breath. “How did you become a Drider? If you were a Seeker,” says Forryn.

“I had left the Seekers seven years before I became a Drider,” Athaso says.

“Oh!” says Forryn. “Where did you go?”

“I actually lived on the surface for the last seven years,” admits Athaso.

Forryn gasps and for a moment Athaso thinks that the other Drider is going to recoil from her in shock but to her surprise, Forryn looks _elated_. She flaps her hands really quickly and Athaso can practically see the multitude of questions running through her mind. Her red eyes are wide and her legs are quivering with excitement.

“What was it like?” Forryn asks excitedly.

“The surface?” Athaso says with a light laugh, surprised at Forryn’s reaction.

“Yes!” says Forryn. One of the Drider in the other stalls grunts shifts a little at the sound. Forryn freezes and the enthusiasm bleeds from her a little bit but Athaso catches her eye and gives her a small smile to reassure her that her enthusiasm is perfectly okay.

“It’s… very different from the Underdark,” says Athaso. “People are distrustful of the Drow and afraid of them, but if you surround yourself with good people most people are willing to at least give you a chance. There’s also a certain freedom that surface people have, at least where I was. People could be anything, even men. There’s light in so many different places, even at night, but it’s not harmful like we were lead to believe it was, it just makes it difficult to see during the day. To be honest, I’ll always remember the very first time I saw the moons. It was… spectacular.”

Athaso smiles at the memory. Forryn looks dazzled. “What was it like?”

“Big and silvery. The light shone down on me and my companions. The sky was deep and blue and the stars sparkled like diamonds. It made me feel very small, but it also made me feel like there was so much more to see.”

Athaso is no poet and she knows it but even if she were she doesn’t think that she would have the words to describe how she felt in that moment. Athaso could also mention to Forryn how dazzled she was when Ma’lyra stood in the moonlight and how her entire form seemed to change but that part of the memory seems more… private. Besides, Forryn already seems amazed even by the brief description she gave.

“I was turned into a Drider for- for heresy, technically,” says Forryn after a moment’s reflection on Athaso’s words. “I was an archivist, I think I said. One day I stumbled upon some old descriptions of, um, well, this goddess that’s a daughter of Lolth but she encourages freedom and is supposed to be connected to moonlight and- and the music of the surface--”

“Eilistraee?” Athaso says, surprised.

Forryn looks surprised too. “You’ve heard of her? Oh wow, I’ve never met anyone else who has heard of her! Are Seekers told about her? I suppose that would make sense if you’re sent to find people like- well, um, people like me I guess…”

“Actually I didn’t hear about her until just before I went to the surface,” admits Athaso. “It was actually sort of how my wife and I met. She and a bunch of friends of hers had gone into the Underdark in order to rescue a surface cleric looking for those that worship Eilistraee that wished to go to the surface.”

“That’s _exactly_ what I wanted,” Forryn breathes. “I… well, I don’t worship her, but I was fascinated by the teachings that I read. I’m a scientist at heart, though, so I wanted to go to the surface to make up my own mind about it all, you know?”

“I think that that is very noble of you,” says Athaso.

“Unfortunately I- I was caught reading the tome so I was turned into the High Priestess,” Forryn says abashedly. “And, well… you know.”

“I’m sorry,” Athaso says genuinely.

The two Drider fall silent for a moment, listening to the slow and deep breathing of the other two as they slumber.

“What- what would you do if you could escape from here?” Forryn asks quietly, out of the blue.

“I would see my wife again,” says Athaso instantly. She’s hesitant, but when she next speaks her words are softer than they had been before. “I’m scared of what will happen when I do, and I keep having all of those intrusive thoughts about it, but… I love her and it wouldn’t be right if I just disappeared on her. Even if we only see each other again once, I feel like she deserves something of an explanation. She knew I was a Seeker, of course, and I told her that odds were they’d come after me again but I thought we’d be able to fight them together. I got… incautious though. I would need some kind of reassurance that the High Priestess wouldn’t be able to find out that I got away for a long time though… at least long enough for me to get a headstart on anyone who would attack her.”

Athaso shakes her head. “What about you? What would you do if you could escape from here?”

“I would firstly want to see the surface,” Forryn says dreamily. “Then I would want my own wizard tower. I used to be pretty talented but they won’t give me access to any components now. But that way I could spend my days reading what I want in peace without getting in trouble for it.” She pauses briefly and makes a face. “Not like the Lady’s though. That tower is… wrong. It feels bad.”

Forryn yawns hugely and stretches her arms over her head. Athaso gives her a small smile and says, “I think the two of us could use some sleep, don’t you? Thank you for answering my questions.”

“Thank you for answering mine,” Forryn says sleepily. “I’ll ask more about the surface later, I think…”

“Sleep well, Forryn,” Athaso says.

Forryn hums in response, already nestling down in her straw and webbing covered stall. Athaso stands and stretches her limbs, heading back to her own stall. She backs into the stall and lays down as much as she can, getting into a comfortable enough position to rest. It isn’t long before sleep claims her and she rests peacefully near the other Drider.


	7. The Trip

Normally Athaso and the other Drider are awoken by the guards ringing the morning bells, alerting the compound that it was time to begin activity for the day. A week following Athaso’s arrival on the compound, however, she is awoken roughly by being jabbed in the side with a scabbard. She scrambles to her feet and backs away reflexively, staring daggers at the compound guard that awoke, her hands raised into fists in a defensive position as she lacks a weapon. Athaso’s inner clock tells her that it’s earlier than when she is usually supposed to wake up.

The compound guard looks at her reproachfully, unimpressed. “Get up and exit quietly.”

“Why?” Athaso says, glowering at the guard.

“It is not your right to ask questions, Drider,” the guard says, jabbing Athaso again. “Move.”

Athaso sneers and starts to exit her stall. Across the room she can see another guard forcing Bolaak out of his stall. The guards drive the Drider outside, where Lady Anevehn stands. In the few times that Athaso has seen her on the grounds of the compound, she has always been dressed in draping dresses and other fineries. Today, however, she is wearing clothes that seem like they can withstand a little bit more wear and tear. It is still fancier than anything that Athaso was allowed when she lived in Adrodduth as a Seeker, of course. At her feet are a few bags, not unlike saddle bags, along with two helmets that are identical to those worn by the compound guards. Next to each helmet was a shortsword.

Bolaak seems to have an understanding of what is going on because he nods respectfully towards Lady Anevehn before kneeling to scoop up the helmet and sword. Athaso stoops to follow his lead but before she can, Lady Anevehn stands directly in front of her, wordlessly demanding her attention.

“This is a… trial, in a way, for you,” Lady Anevehn says smartly.

Athaso folds her arms over her chest. “Oh?”

“That one already knows how to behave,” she says, waving a lazy hand towards Bolaak, “but as a former Seeker you are skilled in combat and that could mean a certain chance for… advancement, in a way.”

“ _Advancement,_ ” Athaso thinks bitterly. “ _Drow society is always about advancement, isn’t it? At least on paper; almost no one really gets to ever actually advance in the hierarchy._ ”

“As I’m sure you gathered, I am an alchemist,” continues Lady Anevehn. “Sometimes I like to go and gather new ingredients to test in my experiments and that requires guards.”

“So why not just use the guards you have?” Athaso says skeptically.

“It is not your place to ask questions of me, Drider,” Lady Anevehn says coldly. “You are to accompany me and guard me so that I may harvest my ingredients in peace. Any attempt to escape or harm me you shall face not only my wrath but the wrath of your Drider companion. If you can prove that you are worthy of my trust, I will be willing to take you on future excursions; I would much rather have an ex-Seeker as my guard than a simple manor watchman.”

There is a flicker of irritation and resentment on Bolaak’s face as he puts on his helmet. Athaso does not glance his way and keeps her gaze fixed upon Lady Anevehn.

“Am I understood?” says Lady Anevehn.

“Yes,” says Athaso.

Lady Anevehn scowls. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, my lady,” Athaso says with only a hint of sarcasm in her tone that the Drow noblewoman seems to miss.

“Good,” she says smartly. “Now pick up the sword and helmet and we will be on our way.”

Athaso begrudgingly does what she is told, placing the simple guard helmet on her head. She gives the short sword a couple practice swings at the air to test its weight, balance, and range. It is not dissimilar in size to the shadowblade she used as a Seeker, but this one doesn’t have the shadow enchantment on it. Not that Athaso expected it to have the enchantment anyway; the necromantic poison that is used to enchant the blades is a closely guarded secret with only the High Priestess’ closest trustees. Athaso herself doesn’t know how it works but then again she never was one for magic, really. She wouldn’t expect some minor noblewoman to have knowledge of the poison.

Lady Anevehn hands them each one of the saddle bags. Bolaak puts his on and Athaso does the same as the Drow noblewoman leads the way out of the compound. As soon as they exit, a guard approaches Lady Anevehn with a riding lizard. She swings upon its back, instructs Athaso and Bolaak to stay close, and leads the way out of the compound.

After a week of walking around only the compound, Athaso relishes the ability to run at least somewhat openly. She feels an odd sense of freedom. She doesn’t feel as though she quite has the confidence to try to escape though; while Athaso feels more than confident that she can take both Lady Anevehn _and_ Bolaak in a fight if it comes down to it, especially given what the lady had said about Bolaak being a watchman prior to his transformation, but Athaso doesn’t quite feel confident enough to try to make a run for it. Besides, if she is to escape, she wants to take Forryn with her; she feels that Forryn deserves the freedom of exploration that she wants. Maybe Athaso can help some of the other slaves escape too. It would make Ma’lyra proud if Athaso were able to accomplish such a thing. To escape would require coordination and a plan.

The three of them travel for hours. Lady Anevehn brings them to a stop next to what looks like a small side tunnel to Athaso. Just by looking at it, Athaso can tell it is natural and was likely formed with water. It doesn’t look like it goes too deep. Despite the small glowing mushrooms near the mouth of the cavern, she is confused as to why Lady Anevehn has decided to take them here of all places. It looks rather unextraordinary.

“Keep an eye on Teraloth,” says Lady Anevehn, swinging off of her riding lizard and thrusting the reigns into Bolaak’s hands. Athaso feels a stab of grim irony that Lady Anevehn will name her riding lizard but will refuse to learn the names of her Drider slaves.

“Yes, my lady,” says Bolaak listlessly.

Lady Anevehn scowls at him and grabs his arm. Her hand glows white hot for a moment and he jerks his hand away, hissing slightly. There are a cluster of blisters where Lady Anevehn’s palm had been, marring his purplish-blue skin. Athaso steps forward, opening her mouth to intervene, but Bolaak shoots her a warning glance.

“I will not tolerate disrespect,” Lady Anevehn scolds.

“Yes, my lady,” Bolaak says.

“Hand me my bags. You two will wait out here and guard the entrance to the grotto while I collect the samples that I need,” says Lady Anevehn, addressing them both.

“You don’t want us coming in with you?” says Athaso, surprised.

“Hold your tongue or I will cut it out,” Lady Anevehn snaps, holding her hand out for the bags. Bolaak and Athaso pass over the saddle bags. “Guard the entrance and don’t allow any creatures or Drow to come in. Neither of you are to follow me.”

“Yes, my lady,” Athaso and Bolaak say.

Lady Anevehn nods, satisfied, before ducking into the cavern. The two Drider stand in silence for a few moments.

“Are you okay?” says Athaso. Bolaak looks at her sideways so she gestures vaguely in the area of her own arm where Lady Anevehn had burned his.

“Oh yes I’m fine,” Bolaak says dismissively. “Not the first time it has happened and it won’t be the last. Don’t think it won’t happen to you too.”

Athaso smiles bitterly. “I’ve interacted with people like Anevehn before; I know what to expect. Most of my teachers growing up were the same way.”

“Lady Anevehn is a talented mage and she has the power to really hurt you if she wanted to,” says Bolaak.

“I have no doubt,” says Athaso. “She doesn’t scare me.”

“What dirt does she or the High Priestess have on you? She won’t hesitate to use it against you,” Bolaak warns. “They have dirt on all of us. Usually loved ones.”

“Who is it for you, then?” Athaso asks. Bolaak stares at her for a moment, looking at her up and down, hesitating. “I’ll share mine if you share yours.”

Bolaak sighs. “My little sister. She’s… very ill and has been her entire life. I took a job as a bodyguard for a high ranking noblewoman’s daughter to try to pay for her treatment. Unfortunately I started to actually like the girl I was guarding. I thought she felt the same way but turns out she just wanted a fuck buddy. When the affair was exposed I was sent to the High Priestess.”

“An affair is hardly a reason to be turned into a Drider,” Athaso says, surprised.

“Well Lady Sethsie has a good relationship with the High Priestess and she was worried that if word got out that her daughter was having a torrid affair with a low-born Drow it would ruin the family name,” Bolaak says bitterly, “so the ‘official’ reason I was turned into a Drider was that I was speaking out against the High Priestess and the Matriarch, calling for rebellion.”

“That’s not fair,” says Athaso. “I’m sorry.”

Bolaak looks at her sideways, an expression on his face akin to as if she had just sprouted a second head. “Why are you sorry? That’s life; obey the hierarchy or be punished.”

“I just don’t think that life _has_ to be that way,” Athaso says.

“Wow. Just what kind of Drow were you?” says Bolaak, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was a Seeker, but then I was freed,” says Athaso.

“As a Seeker you had access to all kinds of resources and status. You would go to bed every night knowing that you had access to food and shelter and healing should you need it,” Bolaak sneers.

“But at the same time it wasn’t my choice to become a Seeker, just like it wasn’t my choice to become a Drider. I was _forced_ into both situations, granted in very different circumstances but still,” argues Athaso. “I may have had access to those things, but I was still nothing more than a belonging of the High Priestess; something to send away or move about as she wished. Choosing to leave the Underdark was the first real life changing choice that I got to make _for my self_ and it was the best choice of my entire life. I do not regret it, even if it means that I am a Drider now.”

Bolaak goes quiet, watching Athaso with a calculating expression. Athaso stares him down boldly, making direct eye contact, not backing down.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” Bolaak muses.

“I do,” says Athaso seriously. “Status isn’t everything.”

“Of course you say that now, as a slave. I’ll bet that you didn’t say that when you were a Seeker,” Bolaak says.

“No, I didn’t, but I didn’t know the things that I knew now,” Athaso says. “And before you ask, I don’t think slavery is right either. That is something else that my time on the surface has illuminated me about.”

“The scholars are right; being on the surface turns Drow soft,” says Bolaak, scoffing slightly.

“You said yourself that we aren’t Drow anymore,” says Athaso.

Bolaak waves her off. “Even so, you, Forryn, and Nariion are all so _soft_ for the surface and the surfacers. I bet you would lead a prison break out with all the slaves if you could.”

“I would,” Athaso says proudly.

Bolaak shakes his head, clearly not understanding her. Athaso does not mind, though; she knows that she will likely not be able to change his mind. She is intrigued by his statement about Nariion having been turned soft by the surface, however. She still doesn’t really know how to approach the other Drider man. There’s something a little bit imposing about him that Athaso just can’t quite put her finger on.

Athaso and Bolaak stand in silence for a few moments, the latter with his arms folded over his chest and the former’s eyes tracing around the area idly, enjoying the feeling of the leather grip of the short sword in her hand.

“She’s doing something to them, you know,” Bolaak says suddenly. Athaso looks at him sideways, not really understanding what he’s saying. “Lady Anevehn is doing things to the humanoid slaves. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’ve seen it.”

Athaso frowns deeply. “Can you describe it?”

“Lady Anevehn makes poisons, mostly. That’s what the vast majority of what is grown in the fields. I don’t know much about it, I’m not an alchemist, but then she goes on these… excursions. To the grotto. Then she always takes a few of the slaves into her tower afterwards. She does something to them and they… well, first of all they don’t always come back out of the tower, but when they do come out they come out… weird.”

“In what way?” says Athaso.

“Sometimes they’re sick and can’t go into the fields without throwing up. Sometimes they are confused about what’s happening for days at a time; that’s the most common one,” Bolaak says. “None of the Drider really… know what it is or what happens.”

“Have any of you tried?” Athaso asks skeptically.

“Nariion has, but we’re just as much slaves as the others are; he was _severely_ punished for it, apparently. It was before our time, but he mentioned it to Forryn and I when Forryn asked,” says Bolaak. He sighs. “Just watch; you’ll see.”


End file.
